


A Study of a Wizard

by mitsukai613



Series: Adversary [1]
Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: M/M, Trapped, Truth Serum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:03:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22024534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitsukai613/pseuds/mitsukai613
Summary: Hendricks gets trapped in the same cell as Harry Dresden, and discovers Dresden has been drugged to tell the truth. He tries not to take advantage, although he knows his boss would want him to, and slowly the two become friends, perhaps leading to more.
Relationships: Harry Dresden/Nathan "Cujo" Hendricks
Series: Adversary [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682125
Comments: 10
Kudos: 88





	1. Chapter 1

Harry Dresden was an enigma. And that was about the only thing I could really say for certain about the guy, other than the guys from my Psych 101 class would probably have a fucking field day trying to untwist all the knots in his head. Trying and failing, obviously. I'm pretty sure a goddamn army of psychologists couldn't undo whatever the hell was going on in Dresden's head. And Dresden wouldn't do anything to help them, of course, because Harry fucking Dresden doesn't take help from anyone. Thus why I, resident mob enforcer Nathan Hendricks, had ended up in the stupid situation I was currently in. 

Not that I'd never been in worse, I certainly had. Tended to happen when you worked as close as i did with John. Dresden exacerbated an issue the guy had always had with getting into trouble, you know? Mix those two and suddenly a normal, perfectly controlled house fire turned into a goddamn nuclear meltdown. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

John had gotten word that Dresden was looking into something big. Bigger than Dresden actually thought it was, anyway. Human sacrifice cult thing, tied up in knots with the Reds somewhere up the ladder, maybe something even bigger John couldn't name up higher than that. And he'd tried to warn Dresden, he really had, tried to offer help, but Dresden had read ulterior motives into it and turned him down, instead just taking a few extra precautions. Like making himself and his friends some charms, and having said ragtag group of friends stay away. So I got sent behind the dumbass wizard secretly, as insurance. 

Turns out it had been bigger than John thought too. They had been scarily prepped to catch Dresden. Left him just enough blood from the kid they'd taken, the one he'd been contracted to find, for him to magically track him. But not enough it looked intentional, just enough that they could've believably missed it in cleanup. Then, when he'd gotten there, there had been a gas trap set up. Totally mundane, couldn't sense it with magic, and just hidden enough that I'd missed it too. It had been enough to stagger the wizard, miss the spell cast at him to draw him further into the heady, smoky room. He didn't notice the guy who got behind him and busted him over the head while he countered the cast spell with his own fire, and he went down. They ignored the flaming and dying members Dresden had hit, piling onto him and injecting something into his arm. All while sending enough guys my way to finally overwhelm me and knock me out. 

When I woke up, I was in some kind of basement, stripped of weapons and the tracking rune Gard had left on me. Dresden looked worse off than me; I'd pretty clearly been an unexpected afterthought. His heavy leather coat and gloves were missing, as well as the myriad of rings and bracelets he wore. Even the little pentacle charm he wore around his neck, the one I realized suddenly I'd never seen him without. He was cuffed to the wall as well, unlike myself. Obviously this little cell had been made for one. I sighed, tilted my head back against the cool brick wall.

Above me, water dripped just regularly enough from the ceiling to be infuriating. Running water above us, probably; I doubted they'd think so hard on how to catch Dresden without thinking about how to keep him. I stood, tested the door. It nearly buzzed under my hand. Wards, definitely, too strong for me to just brute force my way out. They'd thought of the walls too, which was disappointing; in my experience with magical prisons, people often forgot the walls. I'd gotten out of at least one of them through a wall, anyway. But, at the very least, John and Hard knew exactly where I'd been. The only matter was staying alive until they could gather a force and a plan to get me. And keeping Dresden alive that long as well, I supposed.

I walked over to him. Figured it was only fair to check out his condition, see what if anything I could do to speed him into awareness. Hell, maybe he could get us out of this a little sooner, running water and wards or not. After all, I didn't really know how big the dampening effect was, especially on someone as strong as Dresden. He was breathing, definitely, deep and regular. I tilted his head forward, careful, supporting it with one hand while I inspected with the other. It had been a hard fucking hit, definitely, hard enough that a smaller guy than Dresden probably would've been out. But it had stopped bleeding, at least, and from what I could tell it's just leave him with a nasty as hell headache. I leaned his head back against the wall, moved to his arm, trying to ignore the extensive burns on the hand he always kept covered. No wounds except the needle's entry point, and whatever they'd injected into him was my main worry.

The cuffs were my last point of interest. They were weird, made of some icy black metal and absolutely coated in eldritch symbols I couldn't read. Magic, of course. Shoulda fucking figured; people who planned like this, they wouldn't cuff Dresden normally, they'd know how useless it was. Still... I leaned close, trying to inspect the locks, pulling a little at the chain and the cuff itself to test its strength. And then the symbols flashed angry red and Dresden jolted awake, screaming in agony and arching away from his own hands. I jerked back, heart pounding, holding my hands out in a knee jerk response to hope he wouldnt blast the fuck out of me in response to the pain he'd just felt. 

"Fuck! Where the hell... Hendricks? Hell's Bells, what happened?" I saw blood dripping from his wrists, under the cuffs. Fuck.

"No idea. John sent me to help you out, but that crazy ass cult overwhelmed us both and stuck us here. They injected you with something, I don't know what, took our shit, and cuffed you there. Doors and walls are warded, and judging by the puddle on the ground, there's running water somewhere above us. They weren't planning for me to be here, obviously, but I doubt it matters much." I said it by rote, mechanical, as if I were giving a report to John. It was habit, if not my best. I had an easier time with shitty situations if I dissociated a little. Treated it like an exam at school, you know? Harry swallowed stiffly, nodded.

"Smarter analysis than I would've expected from you, Cujo. Marcona and Gard got any idea where we are?" His voice was dry and creaky, more dehydrated than it should've been. What he'd been given, maybe? Fuck.

"I dont think you're in a spot to mouth off much, Dresden. But yeah. I had a tracker on me when I came. They'll figure out something's up pretty quick. Your friends too, probably. Just a matter of staying alive until then." Dresden nodded, licking his lips. His face and his arms were tense. "Think there's anything you can do in the meantime?"

"No. These are thorn manacles, they keep me from using magic. I can get out of them but it takes time, and I'd be in pain after. I dont know if I'd be able to focus enough to get rid of the wards with the pain, the running water, and morhing to direct my magic through. I'll try though." He answered faster than I expected. Faster than he wanted to, from the look on his face. He tensed up more, breathed a little faster for a moment. Weird. 

"Damn. Shit luck for both of us. I cant get the door or the walls down either. So I guess it's a waiting game now. Any idea what these fucks were up to? Even the boss hadn't quite figured that out." Dresden clenched his teeth, tight, and I saw sweat bead on his face. He squirmed, arched a little against the restraints. 

"Fuck!" He yelled, loud and sudden, before more workds fell from him. "Power ritual, a big one. Has to be something to do with me or what I know too." The last bit he spat, bitter and angry, like he didn't want to say it. I narrowed my eyes, looked at him, and suddenly...

"What's your full name, Dresden?" I asked, and he thrashed, struggled til he went red in the face. But then he answered. 

"Of course you choose right fucking now to grow a brain, Cujo," he hissed, until he couldn't stop himself anymore. "Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden." There was a little ring to it, one that Gard had taught me signified a true name. Shit. Whatever they'd given him, it made him tell the truth. I was trapped in a cell with Harry fucking Dresden, and he had to tell the truth. I wondered which set of gods hated me so fucking much.


	2. Chapter 2

I didn't say anything for a while, but Dresden still stared at me with a wild, animal sort of fear in his eyes. I knew what he was thinking, that if ever this situation arose, John had given me some sort of checklist to go through, to figure out every useful little bit of knowledge he had, anything to leverage him into a deal. And I knew well enough that I didn't need a list to tell me what to ask, knew that yeah, John probably would want me to. But I also knew I wasn't just a guard dog, no matter what Dresden thought. 

I was a person too. Hell, sometimes I was just a normal college student, with normal friends and a normal family and... shit, it wasn't like I asked for the life I had. Just... John had been there when I needed him, when no one else had. He'd saved my life, given me the chance to have those normal times. I owed him, sure, and I did consider him a friend. But I wasn't some kind of fucking monster. I knew Dresden had... issues, to say the least. Whatever fucking bluster and macho bullshit he tried to pull, anyone could see that. It was more than obvious even now, the way he was barely masking his fear under snarls, like a beaten dog.

"I'm not gonna ask you anything bad, Dresden. I dont care what you think, but I'm not that much of an asshole." He squinted at me, like he could pick out if I was telling the truth if only he inspected me hard enough. He looked more worn down than I'd seen him in a long time; his hair was lank, a little dirty, and there was a few days worth of stubble on his face. Dark rings sat heavy under his eyes, and his pupils nearly overwhelmed the normal beer bottle brown. 

"Thanks, Cujo," he said, finally. His voice was low, and he looked away from me. For the barest moment, I wanted to stare him right in the eye and see all the shit he was hiding, see what sat deep in his soul. I thought better of it quick, though, and not only for his own sake. I'd soul-gazed Gard once, not long after I'd met her. She insisted on it, for anyone she worked closely with, had forced John into it as well.

It'd been... intense, to say the least, had almost hurt to stare into her soul, all sharp steel and hard wood, the smell of blood and beer, the feel of air rushing past my face and the noise of distant battle, all surrounding some warm, blazing core I could feel but not touch or see. She never told me what was in mine, or John's, only nodded and told Vadderung she was willing to consult with us at least. John had seemed unfazed by it all, I guess because he'd tricked Dresden into one so long before, but it had shaken me up. The way the sight never quite fully left my mind, just sat there in the background, ready to come back clear as day with the faintest thought... I was scared to have a soul like Dresden's in there too, honestly, scared of what it could be. Scared of whatever it was that had gotten John so damn obsessed with the man. 

"Christ, we're in a fucking cell together for god knows how long. Can you at least call me my actual fucking name?" It came out without thought, and I flinched a little. John had told me not to let Dresden know how much the nickname annoyed me, said it was better Dresden assumed I was just a particularly mobile, stupid brick wall, like most of John's associates did. Guess I was more on edge than I thought, letting it slip like that. Dresden barked out a laugh. 

"Hell's Bells, first time I've seen you react to anything! Looser tongue when your boss isn't around?" I shrugged, stayed silent, looked back towards the dripping ceiling. He sighed. "Come on, don't leave me hanging! I'm bored over here, and you're not the one who's gotta try and dislocate their thumbs!" I snorted.

"I can do it for ya, Dresden. Been just waiting for the chance to do some enforcing on you." He actually laughed then, different than the half-sarcastic thing I'd heard him do often before. 

"Thanks but no thanks, man. I live to please, unless you're one of the people desperate to beat the hell out of me. So actually, thinking about it, I dont actually live to please anyone except my dog. And maybe Michael. And I guess my cat, I think he cares too much about continued food access and occasional scratches to do the whole shit beating thing." I smiled, just a little, hoping he wouldn't see. Didn't wanna ruin my image entirely, of course. 

"Get to it yourself then, Dresden. I'd like to be out of here sooner rather than later." Not that I particularly wanted to watch him dislocating bones, either. I'd gotten out of cuffs the same way before. It hurt like hell, I'd been nearly sick from the pain by the time I found John, though at least I'd still been able to knock the guy guarding me at the time out. So I shut my eyes, focused on the ceiling, on anything I could maybe hear outside. 

Dresden worked with remarkable silence, low hisses and groans as he jerked away at his own hands. It was deathly silent outside the door, or maybe it was just too thick to hear the activity. Dresden didn't even scream when he succeeded, when he slipped one hand from his cuffs, then the other. They clattered quietly beside him. I went over. His skin looked clammy, beaded with sweat. 

"Lemme put 'em back for you at least. Hurts worse to do it yourself." He didn't want to speak, clearly, but he nodded. I took his hands, push the thumb of both back into place as quickly as I could. He let in a sharp breath both times, but nothing else. It was almost unnerving, the way he just took the pain. I was used to people in pain, had caused plenty of it, been witness to more, but I was used to screaming. We sat like that for a while, me kneeling in front of him, him just composing himself as best he could. And then we heard a voice, ringing loud through the cell as if by invisible loudspeaker. 

"HARRY DRESDEN. QUESTION ONE. HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOUR KNOWLEDGE OF DARK SPELLS?" Tension flooded his body, and he held one newly freed hand over his mouth, bit down on a finger, punched his own thigh. He stayed silent for about five minutes until he couldn't fight it anymore. 

"Extensive enough to kick your fucking asses!" He yelled it, screaming his frustration to the ceiling. There was no response, no more questions. 

"The hell?" I asked, when it seemed safe. He shrugged. 

"No idea. Seems automated, almost, maybe on a timer or a trigger or something. Makes me think we might not be the only ones here, if they can't give us the kind of personal attention I've come to expect from my kidnappers. My vote is they're looking for something specific." I swallowed. Whatever this was, I liked it less the longer it went on. 

"Fuck. How long do you think it's take you to bust those wards down?" Another shrug, and he cast his eyes down to the side.

"Dunno. Couple hours at least. Those wards are heavy duty, and the water is messing with my moko. It'll take time to gather enough focus to do it." I nodded, tried not to let him see my frustration. Figured he had enough ti worry about, I guess. Instead I just stood up, then sat heavily beside him on his narrow bench at into the wall. 

"Gonna be pissed if I gotta miss my fucking exam for this, Dresden. Been studying for that bitch for weeks." Dresden started at me like I'd grown a second head and started dancing the polka. 

"What." He said it so flatly he might've thought he was just hearing shit. I shrugged. 

"Outside of the whole John thing, I'm a college student. Philosophy, with a psychology minor. Figured you knew." And I had, honestly. I'd seen the werewolf guys he hung out with every now and then on campus before. Didn't talk to them myself, really, but I knew they'd seen me and figured they'd mention it. He shook his head. 

"Nah, I didn't. Figures Johnny would go for a meathead who also happens to be a deep thinker or whatever." I laughed. Dresden was... oddly easy to talk to, and I relished the distraction, at the time.

"Sure as hell wasn't at the time. Fit Cujo a little better back then." He hummed, low and almost soothing. 

"Yeah? How's a guy like you get tied up with a guy like Marcone, then?" I smiled, with all my teeth, and patted him on the back. Easy to talk to, he might be, but he sure as fuck wasn't getting my life story. At least not for free.

"I promised you I wouldn't ask any uncomfortable questions while you're indisposed. You want answers to mine, you're agreeing to give me the same in return." What can I say? A little of the businessman in John had rubbed off on me. And while I didn't have the uncomfortable obsession with Dresden that John did, I could admit to being curious about him. He shook his head, half smile tilting his lips. He looked younger when he smiled like that, not much older than me. It softened the sharp edges of him.

"Stars, got a hard bargain there, Hendricks. Hey, you have any idea where they took my pentacle? The rest of the shit I can replace, that not so much." Huh. Figured itd be the coat he wanted. Sentimental value, maybe?

"Afraid not. I was out too. Sorry." He shrugged, trying and failing to look nonchalant. I made a note of that; clearly the necklace was more special to him than I thought, or than he wanted to let on. Funny that a guy so shit at hiding things had so many secrets. He started to talk again, but then we both heard the door start to open. My first thought was nothing more than fuck. But then I crouched, getting ready to charge whoever opened it and run. Beside me I felt Dresden gathering what magic he could into his palms. We could do this. I hoped.


	3. Chapter 3

The door almost opened in slow motion. I felt my body tensing up, felt myself start crouching low, ready to tackle anyone who stepped through. My brain turned off, like when John had a job for me and all that mattered was just getting it done. And then Dresden yanked me back, more strength than I expected in the wiry muscle of his arms. I saw why, when the fog lifted from my mind.

It was the kid Dresden had been sent to find. He looked drugged, his eyes hazy and far away, and he was clutching a tray in his hands.

"Fuck," Dresden hissed, voice full of anger and fear and pain. I'd never really thought about how similar he and the boss could be, how it hit him when he failed, when someone got hurt because he was too slow. It hurt me too, sure, but I guess I was better able to detach from it, process later when I'd resolved the situation. I preferred thinking that than just thinking I was crazy in the opposite direction.

"I brought your food. They said to tell you it wasn't drugged. You don't need more than they already gave you." He was looking passed both of us, like he didn't really see us. Maybe he didn't. He laid it on the ground, then turned around and left. I thought to at least try to stick my hand through the door after him.

It burned like hell, sent sparks and bright violet light flying out from the point of contact. I admit I screamed, even if mostly from shock, and my hand still ached even as I pulled it back and the door closed. My hand was livid with burns.

"Fuck," I hissed, watching Dresden whip around and pace around the room, one hand twisted in his hair. "Fuck!"

"Yeah," he said, "I agree. They knew we wouldn't attack another victim. Hell's Bells, they've been planning this a long time, they must've been. That looked like Red Court venom." He was half talking to himself, looked almost manic. I walked over to him without thinking, almost, put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed. He stiffened at the touch, jumped a little, before he relaxed a bit into it.

"Calm down. He's alive at least. We've got the chance to save him and anyone else stuck here but we've gotta think about it." He laughed a little, patted my hand and pulled away. It was a smooth motion but I could tell it was to get away from being touched. Not quite phobic, but clearly not used to it. Fuck, my classes were invading too goddamn much, if I was looking at Dresden of all people that closely.

"Damn, really are smarter than you look, Cujo. Shoulda paid attention to Johnny this time I guess. But yeah, I can figure this out. I need more of those questions though. They're looking for a candidate for something. If I can figure out what for and be the candidate, then I can get out and handle this. Those wards are strong though, and I don't think I'll be able to get enough juice to break 'em for a while. Your hand okay by the way?" I didn't register the question for a while, too busy going through his thoughts and nodding along.

"Oh. Yeah. It's fine." He shook his head at me, came over and picked the hand up. His hands were a little rougher than I figured they'd be, I don't know why.

"It doesn't look it. Got anything to cover it? This place isn't clean." I nodded, tore the hem off my shirt without thinking and handed it to him. He raised an eyebrow and I felt like an idiot. Dresden could do that to me sometimes. He wrapped my hand up and I took it back as quickly as I could without looking weird. Although pretty sure that ship had sailed already. "Thanks. Why do you care anyway?" I asked a question without really thinking about it, but he was answering before my apology fully formed.

"You're helping me out of this shit. And I don't hate you or anything, I just think you work for an asshole." I laughed without thinking, too, and shit, Dresden's special brand of idiocy really was catching.

"Yeah he is, sometimes. You two fuckfaces have more in common than you think." He snorted, then plopped down on the narrow bench, long legs stretched out at odd angles, like a spider.

"Yeah yeah, we're practically a movie, the two mortal enemies on opposite sides of the tracks who end up becoming best friends because of their hidden deep similarities." He said it like a movie announcer, and I could easily imagine that in different circumstances he would've added the fucking reverb to his voice and everything. He was just that sort of dickbag.

"Think what you want, but you're the only two who end up getting me in these fucking messes." He grinned, and I sat beside him. He was almost comfortable, the sharp edges of his face softened to the point that I could almost forget the situation for a few minutes. I could tell he was trying to make himself forget too, for a while, at least until we could actually do something. He was easy to talk to like that, like a friend I'd have a drink with, like someone I actually liked. Funny the things you learn about a person when you might die with him.

"Yeah? If you don't want messes, maybe you shouldn't work for the great criminal underbelly of Chicago." I shrugged.

"What can I say? I must just like the excitement. Would make a cool comic, don't you think? Unassuming college student by day, badass gangster by night." He shook his head.

"Wouldn't work. Have you seen yourself, Cujo? Nothing about you says unassuming. It's like the big guy made a mold of a stereotypical movie enforcer just for you!" I punched his arm, light and playful as I could, and sling an arm over his shoulder.

"Gonna let that slide, but fair warning that if I get another smartass crack like that I got the best fucking noogie on the football team." He couldn't hold back for even a second and I knew it as soon as I saw the grim stretch across his face.

"Jeez, and you play football? I'm not sure if it's you or the universe who lacks creativity." And I'm not afraid to say that I gave a noogie to probably one of the most powerful wizards in America. It just felt right somehow. More right than anything I'd done to him before anyway. More like treating him as a person instead of a tool, a weapon John desperately wanted to control. I wondered for a second how many people got to see Dresden like this. If I ever would again. He shoved me off, laughing from somewhere deep in his stomach. I shook my head.

"Fucking dick. Acting like being a stereotypical fire slinging wizard is any better."

"Hey, everyone loves the witty badass wizard with the tragic backstory and can do attitude, though! The mob enforcer is a side character at best." He had nice eyes, when he was happy. They had that weird almost glow to them that Gard's had, like amber glass. Maybe it was the magic. I looked away just as I barely started feeling the faint, familiar tug, wondered why he didn't look away first. He smiled, a little, just barely enough to notice, and the both of us went quiet for a while.

"What?" I finally asked.

"You're a weird guy, Hendricks. Anyone else who worked for Marcone would've taken advantage of this by now. Stars, most anyone I've ever met would've taken advantage of this by now, come to think of it! I don't get why you aren't." And that frustrated him, I realized suddenly. He was used to always being on guard, constantly afraid of someone taking him down, getting through his defenses. It put him on edge when someone didn't because he didn't know how to trust it. And suddenly I felt really, really bad for Harry Dresden.

"I'm not John's pet, I'm his friend. I don't have to agree with everything he does, or even everything that I do. But if I have the choice, I don't see the point in being a douche. I'm confident enough in the size of my dick to not have to swing it around whenever I get the chance." And he smiled again, bigger now, and nodded.

"Like I said, weird guy. But hey, we got this delicious slop here, so we may as well eat!" he said, pointing to the tray that contained little more than a spoon and a bowl of grayish gunk.

"I've been trying not to look at it." And before I could close my mouth he'd already stuck a spoonful in. Fucker was quick. It tasted like wallpaper paste, and I said as much. He took a bite.

"Nah, too thick. Caulk maybe. But I've been told construction supplies give the body great energy."

"Dumbass." But, hell, I was hungry, and he was right that we'd need the strength later. And so I shared the worst goddamn meal of my life with a wizard in a jail cell. Because maybe I am a cliche, but I sure as hell got the interesting stories.


	4. Chapter 4

I don't know how long it took for the next question to happen. I know we finished eating at least, and that the both of us slept, and I know the question woke us. We were leaning against one another and the wall, and part of me was glad that the weird ass voice prevented anyone from mentioning that. 

"Question two. Who trained you in the magical arts, and what are their qualifications?" His jaw tensed immediately, and I saw his eyes freeze over. He didn't try to stop himself from talking, exactly, more like try to keep himself detached. 

"My first trainer was Justin DuMorne, wizard of the Senior Council. My second was Ebenezar Blackstaff McCoy, respected member of the White Council." He kept his tone steady and even, like reading a speech off a teleprompter. He didn't look at me, and I tried not to look at him either. Silence for a moment, before the voice came back online again.

"Question two-A, follow up. Why did you have two trainers, that is abnormal." This one was harder for him to detach from, and he looked at me for a moment before he answered. If he'd been anyone else I'd have said he looked nervous. 

"I killed Justin DuMorne using magic. The White Council arrested me, and the Blackstaff agreed to train me and ensure I wasn't a Warlock in order to reduce my sentence from execution to the Doom of Damocles." Like a story, like someone else's life. Maybe he wished it had been. I wondered how different the person sitting beside me now was from who he'd been then. I didn't believe Harry would kill a man without a reason, but time changes people, I know. I wished I wasn't hearing this. Knowing it made it harder to hide from John. There weren't anymore follow ups. He still didn't look at me. 

"I'm sure you had your reasons. You don't need to justify anything you say because of that shit in your blood, Dresden." He snorted, didn't talk for a while. I didn't blame him, really. Shit, I wouldnt wanna spill my life story to me, in his shoes. He was well aware of what could be uncovered with even just a name and enough resources. 

"I know I don't. No plans to mention it beyond what they ask." Fair enough. I nodded.

"And I don't plan to tell John about any of it." He smiled a little, faint but welcome. I wanted to go back to the bullshitting. We started hearing doors opening and closing around us, loudly, occasionally accompanied with screaming but more often with unsettling silence. Fuck. We must've been closer to the other captives than we originally assumed. Dresden breathed deep, every cell in his body probably screaming to fight. 

"First question was a known, this didn't happen with that. They knew everyone they took had experience with nasty magic, somewhere along the line. But they want specific backgrounds." I nodded, let myself sink into the mystery, into figuring out the secret key to getting us out. 

"High level trainers? If I wanted a big spell cast, I'd want someone with pedigree to do it." He nodded. 

"Maybe. Most people with any connection to the Council know who Eb is. And DuMorne... people in the White Council probably still read his books, I don't know." Important then, but I'd assumed as much already. 

"Crazy fucks." He nodded, chuckled a little.

"It is Chicago, seems par for the course. But hey, doesn't seem like they're trying too hard to try and hide whatever they're doing, at least not from us." 

"Pride before the fall," I said. He didn't answer, really, just looked at the door. I just looked at him. He seemed tired, dark circles under his eyes, a couple days of stubble on his jaw. He was handsome, in a rangy sort of way. It surprised me how few women I'd seen around him, just the sensationalist supernatural reporter woman who I'd always figured was mostly using him for stories. And the cop lady I guessed, although sometimes they barely seemed to be friends. And he was... really nice. Surprisingly. When he wasn't being an absolute ass. 

I didn't think even my boss could see that, honestly. He was too distracted by how useful he could be. Seemed like the trouble with a lot of people. He probably knew that, though. He played stupid but i knew well enough how smart he really was. How he wasn't the naive, irrational bomb most people thought. How the inaccurate view was probably completely fucking intentional. I kept looking at him. 

"What?" He asked, finally. I shrugged.

"I dunno. Just thinking I guess." I could relate to how he felt, that people never saw what he really was. Hell, it was my life, every day I went anywhere with John outside of the mansion, every day I went to my classes. It sucked, put simply. Both of us were a stereotype with a person stuck underneath. "It's hard to play a part all the time, you know?" He tilted his head at me, his eyes going squinty and suspicious, like a kid. 

"I guess? What the hell are you talking about?" I felt stupid again, shrugged, rubbed my arms. 

"Just seems like people don't see you for much except what you can do for them. It's what you act like you expect I guess. It's the same for me sometimes. I dunno, fuck, I'm not good at wording this kind of shit. Always seems clear in my head but it never comes out like that." He stopped squinting, relaxed a little, if not entirely. 

"How old are you, anyway?" He asked me, and I was caught enough off guard that I answered.

"26. You?" I could tell that put him off balance. Most people thought I was older, 30 at least. People my age didn't get where I was, usually. 

"29. You're a puppy still, Cujo!" I smiled and wondered why the nickname didn't bother me so much like that. It almost sounded like there was a little affection in it, of all things. 

"Say that again and I'll break your ass." 

"Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt. Not fun, but worth it to see the look on your face." He stuck his tongue out at me. 

"Anyone ever tell you you're insufferable?" I knew well enough that he was trying to distract from the start of the conversation, but I figured that was fair enough and I didn't exactly mind my awkward rambling going away. 

"The annoyance of others sustains me, Nathan." I punched his arm again, and he only smiled.

"If you lived on annoyance you'd be fat as hell, Harry," I answered, and he clutched at his chest.

"You wound me!" I rolled my eyes, joined in the bullshit a little longer until we both went quiet. And then, out of the blue, he spoke again. 

"It does suck though, you're right. I spent my whole life being someone's weapon. I just wish I could stop." I didn't answer for a while, didn't know if he'd intended to reveal the snippet of personal information or not. 

"It's not all you are. Like. I dunno, I get the same thing, you know? Not the the degree I guess, but I'm supposed to be an attack dog. John knows I'm not, and I get why he likes to keep the act up, but like. It gets annoying sometimes, when even the other people in my classes are too scared to go near me, or my professors give me an A on shit I know I had to bullshit." He nodded. 

"I can see it. People just can't find gray in me, I guess. I'm perfect or I'm literally the devil. Only a few people acknowledge I'm just a guy. It's nice, I guess, that you do. Even if Johnny sure as hell doesn't." I couldn't dispute that, not honestly. John understood Harry on an intellectual level, but the wizard's morality was a mystery I doubted my boss would ever solve. 

"Thanks. Sorry for saying weird shit, anyway. Drives John and Gard batshit sometimes." He smiled, and, very slowly, patted my shoulder. 

"It's cool. It's interesting, and I like interesting." And maybe later I'd analyze why the hell that made me feel so damn good.


	5. Chapter 5

Time kept passing, slowly. Harry had gone kinda quiet, quieter than I'd ever really known him to be, almost reflective. I relished when the food and water came because Harry would get chatty while we are, fuck around with me a little. It helped keep my mind off things I guess. I was getting in my own head, wondering what was taking John and Gard so long, wondering if maybe they'd already come and been captured themselves. 

I fucking hated worrying like that, but the thoughts turned over and over in my head. All my girlfriends had said that was my worst trait, how I over thought things. Chances were they were right; they'd been smart girls. Then that made me start wondering if Dresden had ever had a girlfriend. Like, a real one. Not like the reporter, or the cop. Something normal, just someone who loved him, who shared his bed, who held him when he had a shit day. 

I couldn't picture it, honestly. All Dresden's sharp edges, anyone who got too close to him was bound to be cut. And as for Harry himself, he seemed to care too much for people to let them get close enough to find out. It stung to think about, weirdly, how alone he seemed. I was pretty sure I was about to say something stupid again when the next question came and Harry and I were both jerked from our reveries. 

"Question 3. How many people have you killed with magic?" This one really hurt him, somewhere deep and open and aching. I could see the lingering ache in the twist of his mouth, the tightness around his eyes, but he answered anyway, didn't even fight it, just tried his best to hold onto that cold, monotonous tone. 

"Fifty seven." He looked surprised by the answer. I doubt he kept count consciously. Hell, I knew I didn't. Figured I'd go crazy if I had to face it head on like that. Maybe he did too. 

"Follow up. Do you feel guilt for any?" 

"Yes." No pause there, pure certainty.

"Secondary follow up. What were the names of those for whom you feel guilt?" I could see answers forming on his lips, the beginnings of names, but only one came out.

"Elaine Mallory." And that was it. Pain twisted his features, guilt that he didn't honestly feel guilty for any others. I wanted to reach out to him, but didn't. 

"Third follow up. Who was she to you?" One more time, no hesitation. 

"Everything." And that, I guessed, answered my stupid goddamn question. One more tragedy in the tragic life of Harry fucking Dresden. The voice went silent. Harry didn't say anything for a long time, not even when the doors and the screams started up outside again. I couldn't quite hold back the fear that any second our own door would open and we'd face that unknowable end I wasn't sure we could fucking stop. It never opened. Everything was quiet again until he looked at me, wide eyed and a little distant, and spoke.

"Hey, Hendricks? So you ever think about what your life could've been like? Like, if you hadn't done the whole mafioso schtick I mean." I almost didn't answer, but then... I dunno, I guess I just figured that in his current situation, the guy could stand to see someone else being vulnerable. 

"All the time. I know how much a gave up when I went with John. Every chance for a normal life, the wife and the kids and the dog and the picket fence and all that other shit. That's gone for me. Even when and if something happens to John, he's left it all to me. I made my choice. And John saved my life. Hell if not for him, I might've just been dead in a gutter somewhere anyway." He looked at me, nodded slowly. 

"I mostly think about what it would've been like if I didn't have magic. But then I think it's shaped me so much that I can't even imagine who I would've been." He closed his eyes. I was sort of glad. They'd looked endless, like I wanted to fall in, like I didn't have the will to resist a soul gaze. "I don't know why I told you that." I shrugged, self conscious even though he couldn't see it 

"Dunno. People say I'm surprisingly easy to talk to." He laughed, too loudly in the quiet. "I know you've been hurt over magic, probably more than once. That DuMorne guy you mentioned, for one. And being different sucks, and not being able to be normal sucks, and feeling like the fate of the world rests on you really fucking sucks. But you are who you are, and I think you're doing okay. For a shit head anyway." 

He didn't say anything again, for a while. I didn't either, just sat and felt like the rock stupid guy I was meant to be. 

"Thanks. And thanks for not asking about DuMorne, or Elaine. But I think I know what this is." He still sounded distant, cold, not like the guy I'd been getting used to. 

"Yeah?" He nodded. 

"They need a murderer. A warlock specifically, probably a powerful one like you said. I'm thinking maybe as a conduit for something else. That's the only reason they'd be asking how we feel instead of just what we know." Shit. I didn't understand fully, not exactly, but I knew enough to know that didn't sound good. 

"So a host for a summoning? One who fits a mold the summonee would be comfortable in?" He nodded, tipped his head back and sighed.

"That about sums it up, yeah. Host bodies make it easier for the real nasty shit to exist on this plane, but you need a powerful body or the host will rip it to pieces. It will anyway after a while, especially if the host is unwilling, but they probably have a plan in mind for that." Like everything else they'd done so far. Fuck. I hoped John figured shit out and got here soon, or Harry's friends. I'd take either at that point. 

"It's alright. We play along, then we get out. I've played this game before." I said it without quote meaning it, hoped if I said it enough I'd believe it. He grinned then, like a light behind his face. 

"I like the attitude, Cujo. For what it's worth, you're doing okay too." I hoped okay was enough this time and nodded, smiled a little myself, and spoke without thinking. 

"Let's get dinner after this. I'll buy." I felt myself go bright goddamn red as soon as I said it, but Harry just laughed again. 

"Only if we go to IHOP, I'd kill for pancakes right now." And I guess more than anything I wanted to know why, of all people, of all situations, it felt so easy to be with the crazy fucking Wizard.


	6. Chapter 6

I can't say I honestly know why I did what I did next. I might've been scared, I guess, worried I was about to die and just wanting someone to know who I was without the fake image in the way. Or maybe I just wanted to get that desperate look out of Harry's eyes, make him feel less cornered, less like I had everything on him and he had nothing on me. But whatever the reason, I started telling him who I'd been before John.

"My dad used to come home drunk and beat the hell out of me and Ma. I used to dream about turning the tables and just killing the fucker. It's why I started working out, I used to be a scrawny little fucker. Never did it though. Ma got the courage to walk out, after my baby sister was born. We lived in a shelter for a while before the dick went to jail. Last I heard he died there." He didn't say anything for a while, but I kept my eyes on him, watched what flashed across his face.

Confusion, surprise, wariness, all in equal measures. I didn't blame him. Hell, like I said, I didn't even really know why I was telling him. Finally though, he nodded, cocked his head a little to one side like a dog. If we'd been two different people, anyone but who we were, I might've called it cute.

"I'm sorry. Houses like that aren't easy, man. I'm glad your mom was brave enough to leave though. Sounds like she's where you get the badassery." I laughed, long and loud, thought about my little 5'2, hundred point Ma being called a badass, and yeah, yeah I guessed she sorta was.

"Yeah. I put her through hell anyway, didn't cope well with anything that'd happened. Started getting in fights at school, flunking tests we both knew I could pass. But she dealt with it as best she could. Never told her about the real bad shit I'd gotten into, the gangs and the drugs, but I figure she knew. I need up oweing a guy money, a lot of it. His guys beat me down when I left their place. I guess that was rock bottom for me, laying in that ditch so high I couldn't even feel how hurt I was." I hardly noticed how quiet my voice got.

I'd never liked talking about this part of my life, how bad I'd been, how stupid. How even if she never said it, Ma was scared I'd end up just like dad. How I'd been scared of the same damn thing. Even with John I rarely mentioned it, though before now he'd been the only other person to know the full story. Harry just nodded, though, looked right at me with those fucking eyes, so fucking deep and so fucking dark and so fucking endless. So I kept talking.

"I got clean, managed to scrape together enough to pay the guy back. But I wanted out of the gang life. The guy I was working for at the time, his name was Vargassi. Him and his son, getting clean made me realize how much I couldn't fucking stand them and the shit they did, pushing to vulnerable kids like me, tying us up so deep we couldn't get out. And that's about when I met John. He was just another peon like me at the time, but he had ambition." Harry laughed a little then, couldn't resist I guess.

"Figures he's always been like that, the scumbag." He said it almost fondly, so I didn't comment, just smiled a little.

"We started taking over, little by little, played the long game. After a while, he was my best friend, and people respected us. It was a long fight, did a lot of shit I regret. Figure he did too. But he promised me that at the end, he'd help me get out of the game, finish getting my life straight. But once it was all over... I couldn't bring myself to leave the bastard alone, I guess. I knew he needed me, and he'd saved me. So I stayed, and that's how I ended up here." It felt almost good, spilling like that, like I'd let a volcano out of my chest.

Harry smiled, and I wondered how it lit him up so fast, molded him into someone so different. I realized that before all this, I'd never really seen him smile. I hoped I'd see it more later.

"Not that I don't appreciate the gesture, but why the hell would you tell me all that?" He sounded gentle, and his eyes reminded me of sipping hot chocolate. I shrugged, felt too big and kind of stupid.

"Dunno. Just felt like it I guess, since you're being forced to share with me. Make us even, you know? And I like you I guess." His laugh this time shocked him i think; it came out hoarse and barking, from somewhere low in his chest.

"That's cute, Nate," was all he said, for a minute, and I felt my face go violently red. Fucking red hair, Christ. "I'm glad, though. Don't think anyone's ever done something like that for me. I appreciate it. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry shit was so rough for you. You're a good guy, and you didn't deserve that. But I'm also glad you got through it. Can't say you're the worst person to be stuck here with." He felt genuine, pure and kind. I appreciated it.

"Back at you man. I dunno. I'm glad you know." He nodded, squeezed my shoulder, and one more time, my mouth opened before my brain could say stop. "Still can't believe you don't have a girlfriend." He choked, a little, clearly startled, and my face just got darker.

"Because awkward gangly wizard is definitely every women's dream! Nah man, I've got commitment issues for days, a shitty apartment, and there's a much greater than zero chance of me getting offed by fairies, dragons, and vampires on any given day. I don't think there's many people in general who want to deal with that." I shrugged again, knew I should shut up, but I just kept talking.

"I guess. But you're pretty handsome, you've got nice eyes and a great smile. And you're smart. And you're funny in a douchebag kind of way. Plus it's not like there's no woman strong enough to handle your baggage." Jesus I needed to shut up, like, five minutes ago. He looked really, really confused. I couldn't blame him. I sure as shit was. 

"Uh. Whatever you say man. And you don't have room to talk. Like, hell's bells, you're covered in muscle, you have piles of money, and power to spare. And not like you're bad conversation by any means." Harry Dresden calling me handsome, in a roundabout way, was something I never thought would happen. I swallowed. Was I developing a fucking crush on him, of all people, in this, of all situations? Fucking of course the first guy I have a crush on in goddamn years would be this motherfucker. 

"I feel like I should really shut up now." He grinned, bright and sharp.

"Maybe. But I'm not upset. Nice to get complimented, anyway." I wanted to look in his eyes, suddenly. But I at least had the willpower to resist that. I smiled, a little. 

"I'm not lying at least. But yeah. Let's uh. Not right now." Grace and tact, that's Nathan Hendricks. Christ. He nodded, though, still grinning, eyes sparkling. And then food arrived, and not long after, the monsters in the ceiling spoke yet again.


	7. Chapter 7

It rang a little louder in the room now, almost like it was closer, though how I had no clue. It was an unnerving effect, anyway, feeling like that booming, robotic voice was in the room with us. 

"Do you owe any debts?" Harry sighed, a deep, rattling sigh that almost seemed to deflate him. 

"More than you can shake a stick at." He seemed like he knew what was coming, had his eyes shut, face up towards the ceiling. Accepting. 

"Follow up. To whom, and for what?"

"Beyond the normal mortal debts that come from not paying your bills on time? The Leanansidhe owns my life, for helping me get strong enough to kill Justin DuMorne. I also owe two favors to the Winter Queen Mab, for services rendered." Silence. Slowly, slowly, as the noises began outside, Harry opened his eyes. "I'm sorry. This might be the answer that gets us killed. I can't imagine why they'd want someone with debts as big as mine." 

I didn't say anything. Didn't think I could, really. Didn't see the point either. Figured at this point, if I was going to die, it'd happen no matter what. And Harry definitely wasn't the worst man I could think of to die with. Without thinking, I reached out and covered his hand with my own. He didn't pull away, just angled his body a little more towards me. He smiled, just a little. 

As the noises grew closer I thought of asking for a soul gaze, of asking to die close to him, had my fucking mouth open to donit even, but the door didn't open. Instead, the voice came on one more time. 

"Phase one complete. Transfer to phase two." And then if went silent again. Harry squinted, stared up at the ceiling like he didn't trust it. And in a way, I didn't either. No one looking for a slave was looking for someone already bound to another. 

"They're being too specific. I don't know what this is, Nathan, and I don't like it." 

"Maybe they were looking for you." 

"And knew everything about me but my fucking name? No, that doesn't make sense. There has to be an answer." I nodded, knew he was right, and yet, in the back of my mind a thought formed and twisted around itself over and over. A thought of a creature too old for names, too old to know anyone by anything other than deed or detail. A creature with no use for names. 

We didn't talk much for a while, both too busy turning over our own ideas, throwing them out every now and then for the other to break down, slowly building a picture and finally seeing clearly all the pieces we had to be missing. All the confusion, I wasn't surprised when my head started to ache. 

It kept getting worse, though, worse and worse and worse, and I felt myself start to squeeze Harry's hand. He looked at me, worried, and that was when I noticed the voice. 

It was low and sibilant, like a snake with human speech, twining through the fearful, reptile corners of my mind. It was too quiet for me to make out what it was saying most of the time, and even when I could, it just seemed to tell me how hopeless things were, how I'd die here, how Harry would forget me, how I was a monster, a failure, a slave to the powers that be. It made me dizzy. 

"Can you hear that shit?" I asked, and Harry looked more worried. 

"I don't hear anything, Nathan. Here, lay down," he mumbled, taking my shoulder and guiding me down across his lap. I was shaking, I noticed. I let him guide me, stared up at him. It helped me block it out, however little. 

I don't know how long I was laying there, but i know it got worse. The shaking got violent, the voice so loud it was a scream in my head. My stomach twisted and churned, to the point that I felt sick. It was hard to keep my eyes open, and when I closed them, I felt like the insides had been painted red. 

"I think I'm dying," I mumbled, and Harry shook his head. It felt nice when he stroked my hair.

"No, you sure as hell aren't, Nathan. We're getting out together." God, he was stupid. Couldn't accept life. That was a part of Wizards in general, I was starting to think. Couldn't just take the world as it was, felt like they had to change it. I tried to smile at him, make him feel better, but it probably didn't come across as much more than a grimace. 

"Can I soul gaze you?" The question was sudden and thoughtless, my brain's last ditch effort to distract from the voice, even for a moment. I could hardly breathe when I looked at him, saw him startle, saw him almost refuse before he tipped my head back and fully met my stare. 

I sunk into his soul slowly, rather than being pulled, and the first thing I felt was his magic. The air sparked and crackled with it, like heat lightning, gently pricking my skin. It smelled like a raging bonfire, and I could hear the faint crackle of wood as the landscape shifted and turned around me.

Sometimes, I was standing in the middle of an old, comfortable apartment, all thick carpets and creaking furniture. Other times I was in the corpse of a burned out mansion. Other times still I was in an empty field in front of a cottage that was too stereotypical to be anything but Fay. But always, always, I could see the source of the faint, sweet, burning smell. 

Voices bounced around me, too distant to really understand, but I could hear love in them, or fear, or joy, or pain. I recognized some, his friends, John, even myself. It felt like the most human soul I could imagine and I wanted to hold Harry tight and never let go. But then, I felt myself drifting out of it, no matter how hard I tried to cling, and the voice rushed back into the empty places of my mind, ripping and tearing its way through. I screamed.

Harry held onto me, looking horrified. The door slammed open. I heard John, but didn't see him. Felt Gard haul me up and take me somewhere with sunshine. Heard the distant whoosh and burst of Harry's magic, of gunfire. Felt the voice fade, slowly. And then I passed right the hell out. Like a bitch. Because clearly when someone made me, they'd already used up all the cool for the rest of them.


	8. Chapter 8

When I woke up, I was laying in my bed in John's place, hooked up to an older heart monitor. Much more surprising was the fact that Harry goddamn bullshit wizard Dresden was sitting in the chair by the bed, reading some trashy looking fantasy novel with a Conan looking motherfucker riding a dragon pasted on the front cover. His soul flashed briefly across my mind. 

"Surprised to see you here," I said, a little startled at how old and creaky my voice sounded. He jolted, snapped the book shut and leaned forward, grinning like a crazy person. Which, to be fair, he probably was. 

"Yeah well, had to make sure my favorite guard dog was alright!" As he leaned forward, he slipped a little scrap of paper into my hand. 

"Wow, thanks," I grumbled, felt my heart clench, wondering when I'd turned into a twelve year old girl who got excited when her crush slipped her a note. "What the hell happened, anyway?" His smile lightened, went more sweet, more real, and he leaned back. 

"Well, you know most of the story. It turns out they were after me specifically. Acting like other people were there was just minigames, to weaken my will. Same with the questions, and probably also with letting you stay alive and in the room with me. As for what happened to you, turns out mortal brains without magic protection don't like hearing Outsiders talk." I swallowed. 

From the moment Gard had told me about Outsiders, they'd horrified me. For good reason, obviously, but... something about them, the age, how unknown they were, the thin little sheet that kept them locked away from us... I felt like a mouse with an owl wheeling overhead, not taunting me, just waiting to strike. 

"Shit." Should've figured I wouldn't have anything eloquent to say. He nodded. 

"Yeah. But for now at least it's alright. We got everyone in the building, and the kid is safe. Just a matter of finding who orchestrated the bigger picture now." I nodded, squeezed the paper in my hand. 

"I'm glad you're alright too, Harry. Wanna hit up the IHOP when I'm on my feet again?" He reached out squeezed my shoulder, hand warm and gentle and heavy. 

"Would love to man," he said, reaching into his coat and pulling out a business card. "That's got my personal number and my office number on it. Don't let Johnny get the personal one, he'll drive me crazy," he said, winking exaggeratedly. I laughed. 

"That's cute how you think he doesn't already have it." He hugged me suddenly, a little too tight, but I returned it anyway.

"Read that note when you can. We'll talk about it at IHOP. I gotta go, John and Gard will want to check up on you too." He pulled back, and I missed the warmth and the closeness for a moment. 

"Yeah. Be safe man. I don't want you to die before you feed me." He laughed. 

"Nah man, your treat!" He called, waving as he slipped out of the room. John and Gard replaced him in a breath, one on either side of me.

"How're you feeling, Nathan?" John's voice was soft and familiar. I smiled, suddenly glad to be back and alive over anything else.

"Killer headache, but overall, definitely not dead at least." He laughed, his face open like few have ever seen it. On my other side, Gard was staring down at me, almost through me. People who talked about John being unreadable had clearly never met her. 

"You're strong, and lucky. Few mortals survive what you did." Her voice was smooth and even, but at the least I could hear the care in it, however distant, and that was something. John frowned. 

"Indeed. I hate to discuss business so soon, but it's important we know what actually happened, and Mr. Dresden was as uncooperative as usual, beyond matters regarding your health." Fuck. I'd hoped itd be a little longer before I had to solidify my choice, lie to my best friend. I wished he wasn't so obsessed with Harry, wished I didn't know that John would use what I knew about Harry against him. Wished for a moment I was the idiot I was supposed to be. 

"Can't say I know much. I followed Dresden, like you asked, saw him get ambushed and tried to help. They overwhelmed both of us, although I think we both killed a few. When I woke up, I was locked in a cell with us. They'd play random questions over the speaker, stupid shit like what kind of magic he knew, and he'd give vague answers. After the question, we'd hear doors opening and people fighting or screaming, but he already said that was just mindgames. Then apparently they started letting us hear the Outsider, and whatever happened to me happened. That's all I know." I held my breath, for a moment. 

And then John nodded, sighed, clearly believing what truth I'd given, and I felt myself breath again. 

"Of course. It's alright, I'll discover what he found in his own investigations eventually. This is big enough that he'll have little choice but to cooperate. As it stands, we'll spend the evening together, Nathan. He reached down, hugged me tightly as well, smiled. 

"Sure. Get your work done, John, I'm not going anywhere." And he laughed, and I laughed, and suddenly I was alone with Gard, and she continued staring right through me.

"You are strong, Nathan Hendricks, but you should not have survived. What sort of protection did you have?" Her eyes were chips of blue marble, all the more unnerving for her ability to stare right into mine. It was funny how she could change like this, just crank up the Valkyrie mojo so hard I could barely recognize her anymore. But, I was used to it, and even though she probably should, she didn't scare me. 

"What'd you see, when we soul gazed?" I asked instead, and for a moment her facade cracked, even as she almost certainly understood what I'd done, what had protected me. 

"I saw a loyalty. To a fault, perhaps. Honesty. Intelligence. An actor, especially." I frowned. 

"That's not what you saw, it's what you interpreted." She shrugged, smiled a secret little smile to herself that had, at one point, infuriated me more than anything. 

"So you say. Perhaps I simply experience a soul gaze differently than you. After all, my role was once to judge the worth of those falling on the field of battle, was it not?" 

"Do you always have to have an answer, Sigrun?" She laughed, loud enough to fill the room. She and Vadderung laughed the same way, I'd noticed. 

"It's a valuable skill with a man like you, who can't stop asking fucking questions." I smiled to her, reached out and squeezed her arm. 

"Magic is fucking weird. But Harry kept me safe I think." She squeezed my hand in turn, nodded once. 

"I'll not tell John, unless the need truly arises. He's a good man." I nodded, and we let each other go. It was always like that, with us. Little agreements, taken inch by inch on either side. I think we both liked the competition, in a way, how it went on so seamlessly and John never asked. Although it did stress me the hell out, not knowing what would happen if ever I outright lost to her. 

After she left, I slipped the not out, read it fast. "I went back, after we cleared the place out. Found out a few things. Don't want Marcone to know, at least not yet. Tell you later." He sighed it with a smiley face that had its tongue stuck out. It felt like him. I fell asleep again smiling. 


	9. Chapter 9

Time passed by pretty slowly; I hated being stuck in bed, and John had me stay there long beyond what I felt I really needed. Still, wasn't like he kept me locked up with nothing to do. He brought by games and puzzles, hell, he even had my homework delivered to me. And Harry came by once every couple days or so, brought by piles of dogeared fantasy novels I assumed came off his own shelf. 

"Not that they're bad or anything, but why do you read these things? Don't you get enough of the dragons and fairies and demons and shit in your day to day?" I asked, after the second stack was returned and the third dropped off. He shrugged, smiled a little in the way I'd figured out meant he'd been asked this question before. 

"Because this is all fake. None of it works the way these stories say it does. I just like imagining sometimes what it would be like if it was like these instead. Black and white, you know? And also sometimes big dick swinging wish fulfillment is fun." I laughed. He was good at making me laugh. John had... questions, to say the least. 

He didn't understand why Harry kept visiting. I didn't either, exactly, wasn't sure if he really saw me as a friend or not, but I didn't want to question it too much. The stupid little crush I'd developed lingered in my head and my heart, flaring up every time I saw his face. When John asked, I'd just say that Dresden's stupid hero complex insisted on making absolutely sure that I was okay, and that once I was on my feet again, he'd be back to his usual self. 

And eventually, I was on my feet again. I'd gotten Harry to chill on visiting the mansion, told him John was asking questions I didn't want to answer. But as soon as I got away, I called the personal number on the business card. When he answered, the line was full of warm, old static, the kind that came on a landline that'd seen too much use. 

"Hey Harry. You free tomorrow morning?" He laughed, and faintly I heard another voice on the other side, the clatter of pans, the weird chuffing sound his giant ass dog made sometimes. 

"Should be. You finally off house arrest?" I smiled. 

"Yeah, free at last! Figured we should meet up, have some shitty breakfast and talk or whatever." 

"How dare you! IHOP is food of the gods, Cujo! 10:30 sound good? It's my day off, I wanna sleep in." I felt too warm and awkward, like I had the first time I'd asked someone out back in high school. 

"Yeah. That sounds nice." Fucking loser, jeez. 

"Alright! I'll see you then!" He hung up before I could say goodbye. I assumed that was just kind of Harry.

The day dragged into the next, and I knew I was too eager to see him, but I couldn't change that. I showed up at the IHOP fifteen minutes early, and he was five minutes late. He smiled when he saw me, though, folded himself into the other side of the booth. He ordered some cheesecake pancake monstrosity, and I stuck to an omelette, which he judged me harshly for. 

We shot the shit, a little, but it didn't take long for him to tell me what he'd implied in the note, that he'd found something out that John hadn't.

"So, turns out I know the Outsider they were trying to summon. People call him He Who Walks Behind. I've fought him before, twice, got lucky both times." I swallowed, looked him in the eye, shifted in my seat. This kind of shit was above my pay grade, and I could admit that it scared me more than a little. I felt less bad when I looked at Harry, saw that even he wasn't unaffected by the concept. 

"Not a friend then, I take it?" He laughed, shook his head, ate pancakes with an almost orgasmic look on his face. 

"To say the least. Has John found out about the Adversary yet?" I shrugged. 

"If he has, I haven't been told about it." He snorted. 

"Then he doesn't know. He'd tell you this, if he did. It's dangerous shit, a poison that allows creatures to act against their natures. Fairies infected with it can lie, if that tells you anything about how strong it is. And the Outsiders are spreading it. They wanted to use me as a living vessel, spread it farther and to the stronger players I know. I'm nervous." Fuck. That was... a lot to take in at once, to say the least. I swallowed, and he must've seen the concern on my face, because he reached out and put his hand over mine. 

"Shit. Is there... what're we going to do about this?" He laughed. 

"Right now? We're gonna eat our breakfast. The Black Council won't try something this big again right away, they know I'm on to them and that I'll find them if they let me get too much info. But later, you're going to leak all this to Marcone. I don't want to work with him, necessarily, so I'm sure as hell not telling him myself, but he has the resources to dig into this reasonably safely. And Chicago is his to protect too. So yeah." He shrugged. I stared. 

"John won't let this go. Are you sure they won't come after him for this?" Stupid as he could be, he was still my best friend. These guys didn't seem like the type to provide a pleasant death. 

"They're coming after all of us anyway, Nathan. And I can't be sure of the timeline, but I don't think it'll be soon at least. I'm not asking you to tell me what he finds out, I just want him to know. I mean, you to know. Shit, I don't know. You're involved now, were the moment you heard He Who Walks Behind, and this is the best way I can think of to keep you safe. Hell's Bells, I like you, Cujo." He started babbling at the end, face faintly pink high on the peaks of his cheeks. It was more endearing than it should've been. 

I flipped my hand under his, twined my hand around his and squeezed. He stopped talking, just looked at me. I grinned, and I know I looked like a fucking idiot, but he was still blushing, and there was pancake on his cheek. 

"Thanks, Harry. I like you too." And then we both started laughing like assholes, like the stupidest morons that ever had breakfast in that fucking IHOP. I leaned across the table and kissed him. He returned it after a moment. I pulled back, and the both of us were bright fucking red. "Sorry." He just laughed again. 

"Wow Cujo, way to make me feel special! I did kiss you back, asshole!" I punched his shoulder, just to get the fake look of offense off his face. 

"Fuck off. So, does that mean you wanna try..." I gestured expansively didn't think I could put words to it, really. He snorted at me, took my hand again and gripped it hard. 

"Yeah. It'll be weird, but like I said, I like you. More than I have anyone in a while. I feel like you understand me I guess, and it's nice. So we'll try." And I guessed that, for the moment, that was enough. 

The weeks ahead of us would be hard, dealing with this Outsider, Adversary shit, trying to figure out how to handle John, all of it. But I guessed, if nothing else, I'd have Harry Dresden, pain in my ass, fire spewing douchebag wizard, to do it with me. And however little I understood it, that, at least, felt good. But I would never understand why the fuck he liked IHOP so damn much. 


End file.
